What He'll Never Know
by Stars and Stripes
Summary: It's 2012. Henry's been dead for 5 years. And just when I thought I'd never see him again... What does Henry leave behind that could change Clare's life for the better? Read and tell me what you think!
1. Chapter 1

Sunday, September 16, 2012

CLARE: It's been 5 years, 8 months, and 16 days since Alba and I lost Henry. Now, I live for the slim chance that I will wake up to find him standing naked at the foot of my bed, traveling from a different time.

Time passes slowly. I tend to sleep away most of it. What I don't spend in bed, I spend in my studio, staring at blank drawing paper and the stone cold vats that have been neglected for so long.

Today, I wake up at my normal time, which is about 12 o'clock. Alba has already turned on the coffee for me; I can smell it through the slightly open door. I hear her bare feet padding against the wooden floor as she approaches my room. Quietly, she whispers, "Mama?"

"Yes, Alba?" I say, propping myself up on a few pillows.

"I made you some coffee," she says, offering a steaming cup in front of her. I do my best to give her an appreciative smile.

"Thank you, baby." She silently wiggles her way through the door and sets the beautifully smelling mug on the nightstand. She stands next to the bed, her sad eyes boring into mine.

"I love you, Mama," she assures me. I embrace her, pulling her securely into my arms. After a minute, she pulls away, looks me in the eye and says, "We'll see him again. I know we will."

I close my eyes. "Thank you for the coffee, Alba." She realizes that's her cue to leave. When I open them again, she has gone. I reach over and retrieve my mug from the table. I study it. It's the mug Alba made for Henry when she was two years old. Her tiny hand print takes up the majority of the cup, and right below it is her name and the year it was made, 2004. On the other side, it reads in all caps: HAPPY FATHER'S DAY! I sigh to myself and take a long sip.

I stumble out of bed and slip on my slippers and bathrobe. I wander to my studio still half asleep and as I walk through the door, I hear a soft thud outside of the studio window. _Oh my god, could it be?_ At first, I am unable to investigate; I'm momentarily routed to the spot. But after a minute, I peer out the small glass window to see my Henry. The one and only, lying flat on his face, naked in the dying grass.

I gasp and tears start to pour down my face uncontrollably. It's Henry! He came back! Alba was right! I rush out the door and shout, "Henry! Oh god, it's you!"

He lifts his face to see me, and it immediately lights up to reflect mine. "Of course it is. What year is this? Oh, Clare, don't cry!" He stands up and takes me in his arms. Oh, how I miss being in his arms!

"I love you," I mumble between thick sobs.

"I love you, too, Clare," he whispers in my ear. "What year is this?"

"2012," I manage to spit out.

"Oh, no. I'm dead, aren't I?" He sounds sympathetic and a little surprised. I hesitate for a minute then nod into his bony shoulder. "Oh, Clare! I'm sorry. I love you with all my heart, believe me." The tears start to stream faster.

Before I notice it, Henry is kissing me. Passionately, lovingly. I kiss back, realizing that this is what I've been waiting for. This is what I've been hoping and dreaming of; Henry has come back.

A thrill goes through me as he strips me down to nothing in the chilly September afternoon. My memories didn't do him justice. I can't believe this is happening. I'm crying again, but these are tears of joy. I would give anything to keep him here and now.

Henry works quickly, not wasting a second. He must know he doesn't have much time. I grasp his arms and pull him into me, trying to hold on to this moment as long as possible. His body is warm against mine as we move together. I commit this piece of heaven to memory while he moves expertly inside of me. Within a heartbeat, we both cry out, and he is gone.

I lie there behind the studio, legs splayed, completely naked and completely alone once more.


	2. Chapter 2

Thursday, October 11, 2012

CLARE: Ever since Henry visited me on that September afternoon, I have dreamt of him. In my most recent dream, I am sitting on Henry's lap in a rocking chair by our bedroom window. He stares into my eyes as he slides one arm around my waist. I lay my head against his shoulder and I am vaguely aware of something between us. At first, I ignore it, but it seems to grow and becomes more noticeable. I look down to see a small baby, with the umbilical cord still attached, nestled between our torsos. It is visibly growing in front of me, and when I look up to ask Henry what's going on, he is gone again.

I wake up sweating. I look around frantically, hoping he will still be there, but he isn't. Of course he isn't. My heart aches and my stomach lurches. I suddenly feel as though I need to throw up. I make it to the bathroom just in time.

I rest my hot face on the cool lip of the toilet. My breathing is labored. I throw up again. After a few minutes, I feel better but realize that there is no way that I can fall back asleep. I catch a glimpse of my alarm clock as I walk into the hallway. It's only 4:30 in the morning.

I wander into the kitchen and turn on the coffee maker. As I turn away from the counter, I jump. Alba is sitting at the table, watching me move about the room. "Alba, why are you up?" My heart is still racing.

"I couldn't sleep. You were screaming Daddy's name in your sleep again. You were saying, 'Henry, stay with me, please!'" she replies. Her eyes are sad. "You saw him again, didn't you, Mama." I am silent. I don't want to hurt her feelings. "Mama, you can tell me. I can tell anyway; you've been a lot happier lately." She raises her eyebrows.

"He stopped in by my studio last month. He only stayed for a matter of minutes. Alba, I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"It's okay. He probably didn't know I existed yet anyway." Her words hurt me, but they are probably true all the same. She takes a sip of apple juice and hops down from the chair. "Can I draw in you studio before school?"

"Sure, baby." I busy myself with the dishes as I hear the screen door close. When I have carefully put everything away, I make myself some toast and two eggs, sunny-side up. I eat over the sink, watching the autumn leaves sway gently in the wind through the kitchen window. The clock now reads 5:45. I go out back to check on Alba.

I knock on the thin door; Alba doesn't like when I barge in while she works. She doesn't answer. I slowly enter, not wanting to startle her, but instead of seeing her long black hair flow down her small frame, there is only the ominous pile of pajamas, hung over the tiny stool. I lean down and pick them up. I make a note to myself to call Alba's school and tell them she will be late.

I place her clothes in the basket by the door that I have kept there in case she returns to this spot. I sit on the stool in front of my drawing pad to see what Alba has created. Before me is a picture of Alba, herself, sitting cross legged with a baby in her lap. The baby is laughing as Alba tickles it. Alba's artistic skill never fails to amaze me. At the bottom of the picture, she wrote in beautiful cursive "Adam DeTamble." What does Alba know that I don't?


	3. Chapter 3

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

CLARE: The windows are icy, and the wind is blowing vigorously, but Alba insists that we go trick-or-treating. "You didn't buy me this leopard costume for nothing, Mama," she says sternly. I love it when she tries to be firm with me; it always makes me laugh.

She finishes her spaghetti in a rush and runs upstairs to retrieve a pillowcase from her bed. "Alba, what are you doing with that?" I ask, chuckling a little at the sight. It is almost as big as her.

"I want to make sure I can hold ALL the candy I get this year," she admits with a huge grin on her face. I roll my eyes at her and grab my coat as we head out the door. Maybe this won't be such a bad thing after all. I could use the exercise because, to be honest, I've been putting on a few pounds lately. Of course I've been _meaning _to exercise, but being single parent, I hardly see how that's possible.

Alba tugs on the sleeve of my jacket and drags me to the house across the street. This is when a large development comes as a disadvantage. I wait in the driveway as Alba rings the doorbell. The icy wind blows my hair behind me and I can't fight the shiver that runs down my spine. When she returns, we walk silently to the next house. Alba was never a child of many words.

About five houses later, I start to get bored. I have to admit, it's not the same when you aren't the one collecting the sweets. "Alba, do you still have homework to do?"

"Nope, I finished everything, I promise," she says. I sigh. I almost got out of it. "Mama?"

"Yes, Alba?" I reply.

"Can I tell you something?"

"What is it, baby?" I crouch down in front of her so that we are seeing eye to eye.

"I don't know if it's too early or not to tell you this but,"-she takes a deep breath-"I think you're pregnant."

I blink at her. Pregnant? _Pregnant?_ What is she thinking? How is that even possible? Oh, I get it. Leave it to Henry to get me pregnant after he's dead. He never did fail to amaze me. "Are you sure?" She nods once. I study her, trying to read her expression. Nothing. Naturally, she inherited her father's convenient trait that hides all emotion. "Is it a boy or a girl?" She smiles, closes her eyes and shakes her head. Alba runs her fingers across her lips and pretends to throw away the key. Sometimes, she finds the best ways to frustrate me. I smile back.

"Nope, I'm not saying anything. I just didn't want it to be a surprise on labor day." We laugh together. The wind blows a few hairs in her face and I brush them away to plant a kiss on her forehead. She slides her hand in mine and we slowly continue down the street. "Uh, Mama?"

"What now, Alba?" I say, smiling. She doesn't answer, just points. Her mouth is frozen in an "O" shape, and she is momentarily speechless. I follow her slender fingers down the road to see a small boy, maybe 4 years old, watching us. He is completely naked. "Alba, who is that?"

She hesitates, but then quietly answers, "It's Adam." Adam? She wiggles her hand free from mine and drops her make-shift candy bag at my feet, taking off full speed toward the little boy.

"Alba! Come back here! Alba!" I run after her, but she has already embraced the boy, supposedly named Adam, into a tight hug.

"Mama!" a squeaky voice exclaims. I realize that it comes from the child in my daughters arms. Alba lets go and Adam attaches himself to my leg. "Hi, Mama!" He giggles, and at once, I fall in love with this child. When he releases his grip on my calf, he gestures with his tiny hands for me to come closer. I bend down and point my ear in his direction. His cups his gentle hands around it, and whispers, "Can I have some clothes?" I start to laugh. How adorable! The smile never leaves his pudgy, little face. With ease, I scoop him in my arms and fit my other hand in Alba's. I slowly lead them back home.

"Sorry we had to cut your Halloween short, Alba," I sympathize.

"It's okay! Hey, Adam, what do you wanna play when we get home?" she asks.

"Clue!" he yells, perpetually giggling. Without being able to help myself, I kiss the boy on the forehead. It still astounds me that this boy could be here in my arms, and also in my abdomen - both Adam's here and now. This time traveling thing never did get old.

I smile to myself at how messed up and yet how perfect my life truly was. Sure I'm overly depressed about Henry isn't constantly in my life anymore, but without even knowing it, he's left me another piece of him. He'll never know how beautiful this child is, how much he looks him, how his smile makes his cheeks dimple in exactly the same way. For once, I felt my luck balance out, the empty hole in my chest ache a little less.

"Clue." I chuckle to myself, and tickle his soft stomach. "Clue. If only you had a _clue_ how perfect you are!"


	4. Chapter 4

Saturday, November 3, 2012

CLARE: After Alba's exciting news, I decide to schedule an appointment with Amit Montague right away. She was the one who lead me through my first pregnancy, and did it flawlessly. I have to talk to her; make sure everything will be okay. We both know all too well how dangerous this pregnancy can be; for both me and Adam.

"Good morning, Amit," I say into the phone with enthusiasm. "How are you this fine November Saturday?"

"Clare! I've missed you! It's been ages since we've spoken! I'm great, how are you?" she replies, sounding just as thrilled.

"Well, I believe I'm more than great; I'm ecstatic! I have some amazing news for you!"

"Oh? What's that?"

"I'm pregnant," I breathe slowly into the phone. I know I need to give her a minute to let it soak in. Of course she knows that Henry has passed, and of course her mind will be reeling with possibilities. I wait patiently for the correct one to bubble to the surface.

"Well, Clare, I'm so glad that you've found someone that has made you happy again. I didn't know you were remarried, but believe me when I say, you deserve all the happiness in the w-"

I cut her off mid-sentence. Remarried? What was she thinking? "No, no! This is 100% Henry's baby. I'm sure of it." I laugh to myself at her silliness. There could never be anyone more perfect than Henry for me.

I wait again as she thinks. "Oh, I see. He has time traveled into the future from when he was alive, and you conceived a fetus with the younger Henry." She laughs out loud. I join in. It is rather funny. "Leave it to him. Always throwing curve balls, that Henry is. God, I miss him."

There is a long silence. "Me, too," I say, almost inaudibly.

"Baby, you know how sorry I am, don't you?" I nod even though I know she won't see it. "Okay, well, what is it that I can do for you?"

I shake my head to clear it and steer myself back on track. "Right. Um, I was hoping to schedule an appointment with you to talk about the pregnancy. I'm almost 2 months along, and I would rather know what's going on right away then be blindsided by the unexpected."

"Oh, my! Two months? My dear, that's awhile. You should have contacted me sooner. This pregnancy could be different than the one you experienced last time. Two months!?" She starts ranting and shuffling papers.

"Well, I didn't actually know about it until he visited me a few days ago, and-"

"He? Who's he?" she cut me off.

"Oh, Adam, my son-to-be."

"And he visited you? From the future? Well, that's a relief already! If you've seen him then we can conclude that he is healthy in the future. Oh, this opens so many doors. You need to see me right away. There are too many questions to ask over the phone. Oh! Okay, I have an opening on the 11th of this month. It's a Sunday; I hope that's okay, but I don't have another openings before that or after until late December. Do you want it?" She speaks so fast that I'm afraid I don't catch all of it.

"Oh, um, sure. Yes, I'll take it. What time?" I stammer.

"Time…time…" I faintly hear her flipping files around through the receiver. "Ah! Here it is. Uh, I have 2:30 or 4:30. Either one is fine for me, but don't think the times are limits, baby. You can stay as long you like."

I smile. I always did like her. "I'll take the 2:30. I think Alba's sitter goes on break at 5 anyway," I joke. She laughs politely.

"Sounds wonderful. I can't wait to see you again."

"And the same to you."

"So, the 11th it is?"

"The 11th it is." I gently brush my fingers over my stomach which seems to be growing in front of me. Suddenly, I feel 10 years younger and just as naïve. I'm entering a new realm of unknown and I could not be happier. Who knows if this will harm me? Who knows if this will be any different than what I experienced with Alba. All that I do know is that I get to have another piece of Henry to wake up to everyday.


	5. Chapter 5

Saturday, November 10, 2012

CLARE: As I watch the sun set out of the back window in our bedroom, I comb Alba's long, black hair in front of the lengthy mirror propped up against the wall. She hums Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to herself as she fiddles with a makeup brush she found in my bathroom. With caution, she brushes it across her porcelain cheek. "Makeup, Alba? Already? I was hoping I could keep you away from that until you were at least 13." I giggle.

"I want to look perfect for the party tonight. There's going to be boys there, you know," she snaps back. Boys? But she's only 11!

"Alba, I thought this was a slumber party," I say, suspicion in my voice.

Her face goes red, and she stammers. "Uh, well, it-it is, but…but there are going to be boys there at the beginning. But they're just friends. I promise!" I roll my eyes at her, pretending like it doesn't bother me, but deep down, it does. Alba, my baby, my only child, is growing up, turning into a young lady. Since her 11th birthday, I noticed that her body was already sculpting into that of a woman's. At 11! I couldn't believe it. And not to mention, she grew 3 inches over the past year. How did she grow so incredibly fast? How was she already this old? It felt like yesterday that she was starting her first day of kindergarten. "What's wrong?"

I shook my head slightly. "Nothing, nothing. I'm fine," I replied. I change the subject quickly. "Okay, come one. We need to figure out what you're going to wear!" Her face lights up and she hops off of the stool she was planted on.

"Oh! I have the perfect idea!" She snatches my hand and tugs me toward her closet. Before I know it, I am helping her into a cute sweater and skirt that fit her beautifully. She twirls elegantly, letting the skirt float around her. Her eyes close and in that instant, I see her in all the stages of her life. As an infant, peacefully sleeping in her crib; as a toddler, stumbling clumsily toward her father; as a young child, dancing along to Disney sing-along's. Unwillingly, a tear trickles down my cheek. "Mama, tell me what's wrong," Alba demands. Wordlessly, I hug her protectively, not wanting to ever let go. She is my baby after all. She hesitates but eventually weaves her bony arms around my waist.

"I love you, sweetie," I mumble into her hair.

"Love you, too, Mama!" she giggles.

I lean away and take in her perfect face. "You're beautiful. Have I ever told you that?"

"Only a couple hundred times." She smiles up at me and slithers out of my grasp. Alba runs into her closet and pulls out small ballet flats to match her sweater. "Hey, how about these? Do you think they would go?"

I grin. "Of course, and they look great on you." She slips them onto her bare feet then glances up at the clock. I see her eyes widen.

"I'm going to be late! Oh, no! I can't be late! We have to go, come on!" She sounds as though she is going to hyperventilate. Alba dashes out the door and returns with our coats. In one quick motion, her jacket is on. She hands me mine and within seconds we are hopping into the car.

The car ride is short, and neither of us talks much. Like I said, she was never a girl of many words. But when we arrive, I lean over and plant a kiss on her forehead and say, "I hope you have fun, honey." She beams, and mutely leaves the car. I wait in the driveway until she is safely inside and then slowly pull out. Something in my stomach squirms and I feel ill, but it passes.

I had to admit, I am a little afraid of staying home alone. I need Alba there, just in case something happens because of the pregnancy. Of course, I have no idea what to expect, but it always is scary not knowing what could happen.

When I get home, I head straight for my studio and turn on the coffee maker. Instantly, the wondrous smell fills the room and I start to relax a little. I settle myself in front of my large drawing pad and peel of Alba's picture of Adam. I flatten it on the table beside me, and then focus my attention on the blank paper before me. I pick up a thin pencil and allow my hand to work freely across the page. Aimlessly, I form random curves into chubby arms and almond shaped eyes; I make a thin sliver for a mouth and etch in the round cheeks. I close my eyes and finish thoughtlessly. I hear a light thud and I snap my eyes open at once. First, all I see is the picture I've drawn. I seem to have created a baby, a beautiful baby at that. But I peer around the drawing to see what caused the noise and spot a tiny, naked infant lying on the cold floor. I realize that my sketch is almost a spitting image of the child before me.

It's Adam! I laugh to myself at the irony. It's almost as if my portrait beckoned him here to keep me company. I scurry through the mess on the floor and pick him gently off the ground. I cradle his naked self in my arms as he starts to cry. "No, no, no! Don't cry, baby! I'm here; Mama's here," I coo. His wild eyes meet mine and he quiets down. With his tiny fingers, he reaches for my thumb and grasps on it with all of his might. Carefully, I carry him back to the house and bundle him up in a few blankets. Quickly, I heat up some milk and put it into one of Alba's old sippy cups while keeping him in sight. He swallows it up easily and doses into a deep sleep almost immediately. Careful not to wake him, I scoop Adam into my arms and take him to our bedroom.

I lay him on the mattress, supporting his head. I watch him lull in and out of sleep, noticing the peaceful serenity of his soft face. It took me by surprise at how perfectly still he slept. Nothing more than the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. I couldn't be more thankful for such a precious gift.


	6. Chapter 6

Sunday, November 11, 2012

CLARE: Alba convinced me to take her along with me to the doctor's office today. After I picked her up from her sleepover, she bugged me for three hours straight. Since I really didn't have an argument against it, I caved.

I make grilled cheese, listening to the crackling sound the pan makes when I agitate it. Alba swings her legs beneath her as she waits patiently. When I finish, she eats her sandwich in a few quick bites, then grabs her coat to leave. I roll my eyes and follow.

We arrive at the office with 10 minutes to spare. Alba links her fingers in mine and we stroll to the elevator to take us up to Amit's office. There is a small waiting room that we enter which contains a cute reception desk. A blonde secretary sits at the desk, typing monotonously on her Dell computer. She looks up when she sees us and smiles kindly in our direction. She stops her typing and reaches for a blank clipboard.

"Good afternoon," she greets us. "I'm guessing you're Mrs. DeTamble?"

"That's me," I reply.

"If you could just sign in here," she says as she points to the empty clipboard, "I'll let Mrs. Montague know that you're here." I grab the pen and scribble my initials across the page. She takes it back from me and flips through a stack of papers in a file. I assume what is my file. The receptionist chooses one and pulls it away from the rest. She scrawls something at the bottom, and then reaches for the intercom on her desk phone. "Mrs. Montague, Mrs. DeTamble is here to see you."

It takes a few seconds before we hear the scratchy reply from the other end say, "Thank you, Mrs. Strafford. Send her in, will you?" She nods at the door behind her and I lead Alba through it. When I enter, Amit is bending over a tiny counter, reading something. She looks up from her work and her face lights up. She runs over and embraces me in a tight hug. "Oh, how good it is to see you again, Clare! How have you been? And, Alba! Look at how you've grown!"

Alba smiles politely and holds out her hand for a handshake. "I've been holding up. Same old, same old, really. How about you?" I inquire.

She rolls her eyes and says, "Me? Silly, old me? Well, I've been okay, too, I guess." She takes a deep breath. "We should get working. Shall we?" She gestures toward a plastic, doctor's bed for me to lie on. I nod and stroll over to it, whispering to Alba to sit in the chair across the room. "Let's start with the usual interview," she starts, pulling out a notepad and a ballpoint pen. "Any nausea and vomiting?"

I nod, and scribbles something. "Frequent urination?"

"Yes."

"Food cravings?"

"Yes." She continued a long list of things that all had the same answer. After a while, she didn't even bother to write anything down. I glance at Alba to see if she feels uncomfortable, but she is no longer sitting in the chair I left her in. "Alba?" I call.

"Oh, she disappeared awhile ago," Amit answers for her. My stomach ties itself in an uncontrolled knot.

"Oh, okay," I stammer.

"How about we start the ultrasound?"

"Sure." She leaves the room quietly and returns with the proper equipment. I didn't remember what it was called, but this machine looked a lot smaller and more advanced than the last one that I used. It still had the same general attachments though.

Amit pulled out the transducer from within a cabinet along with a bottle of gel. Without instruction, I raise my shirt above my growing abdomen, and she applies it. It is cold, and it sends a shiver down my spine, followed by goose bumps. "When was the last time you urinated?"

"Three hours ago, maybe longer. Why?"

"It's important that you have a full bladder to continue with this procedure. You should be fine." She boots up the machine and it hums away. Routinely, she slid on a pair of latex gloves. A fuzzy image appears on the monitor, but it seems faintly clearer than I remember. Amit starts to gently twirl the transducer across my stomach, allowing a blurred figure to appear on the screen. "Sorry about the cold, dear. This should only take a minute." She looks at the image and squints her beady eyes. Then, she smiles. "Look there."

I follow her finger to a little shape that I can't make out on my own. I tilt my head to the side and squint my eyes. She giggles and my reaction, then she stops and takes a closer look at the screen. "Hmm, that's interesting…"

"What? What's interesting? Is everything alright?" I start to panic.

"Did you say that you were having morning sickness?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"Hmm…" She continues to stare at the monitor, ignoring my inquiry. "When did you say the day of conception was?"

"I didn't, but I believe it was September 16th."

"Hmm, you baby should have grown considerably more than it has at this point. Do you remember how long your pregnancy was with Alba?"

As if she was summoned by her name, Alba reappears in the room, scrambling around, searching for her clothes. She startles me at first but relief washes through my veins when I am assured that she is safe. I refocus my attention on the task at hand. "Uh, I believe it was a normal length."

"You see this here?" She points at a tiny oval on the panel and traces around it with the tip of her finger. "This is the fetus. At eight weeks, it should be about this big." She makes an oval shape with her hands. "It puzzles me that this baby is growing so much slower than that of a normal one." Amit drums her fingers against the counter as she thinks.

The room is silent as she removes the transducer for my abdomen. The exposed gel feels cold against my skin and I shudder slightly. She smiles and hands me a wet paper towel to wipe it off. I go through the motions of getting ready to leave but my mind is far away. Why would my little Adam be taking so much longer to grow? Is there something wrong with him? I knew the answer to that one; of course not. I'd seen him with my own eyes! He was perfectly fine! Why am I worrying myself? I sigh to myself and I feel Alba intertwine her fingers in mine.

"It was great to see you again, baby," Amit says from somewhere behind me. I pull myself out of my imagination and grin at her.

"Yes, you too. I've missed you. Can we set up another appointment?" I ask.

"Of course. You must give me some time to do some research though. I'm curious about your peculiar situation. When are you free?" She strolls to a clipboard that is mounted on the wall. Absentmindedly, she licks her finger and flips through a few pages.

"I have very flexible hours. Anytime is good for me, but what about you? Are you fairly booked up?"

"Don't worry about that, Claire. I can always make time for you," she assures me.

"How about I call you sometime this week?"

"Whatever works for you, dear."

"Goodbye, Amit." I turn back into the waiting area and pay my co-pay for the visit. I thank the secretary again and take Alba back to the car.

All of the sudden, I get an aching feeling in the pit of my stomach when the thought of Henry crosses my mind. He was always there when I needed someone to confide in, someone to dump my worries and complaints on. He never complained about my troubles, just accepted me for who I was, and reassured me that everything would always be okay. And now, when I did need him, he was jumping between decades, fraternizing with the time space continuum and living else when with a younger, happier Claire.


End file.
